


Puppet Master: Psycho

by Hawkscape



Category: Psycho (1960), Puppet Master (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkwardness, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Corpses, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Growth, Injury, Mental Anguish, Mental Instability, Multiple Personalities, Shyness, Taxidermy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 21:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkscape/pseuds/Hawkscape
Summary: What would happen if Norman Bates became the next puppet master? Would it make everything better or worse? For whom?How long can a man fake normalcy with his new toys? Or are they his friends?





	Puppet Master: Psycho

Norman didn't go to town more than necessary. It wasn't because he disliked the drive or the nice people who lived there (even if they did ask to many questions), he just didn't like to leave the motel or his mother unattended for long. What if one of his rare guests passed him by? What if something happened and she needed something? He tried not to think about it or he'd be too distracted to get everything done. He already had to write even small things he needed down. He was so scatterbrained sometimes.

He walked into the general store and kept his head down out of politeness.

“Ah, morning Norman.” Said the nice man behind the counter.

He smiled tightly at the owner. “Morning.” He ducked into an aisle he had gone into many times before and consulted his list. Milk, bread, should get some jam for mother, she liked it with her morning toast. He picked up what he needed and put it in the small basket had brought with him, quickly making his way to the front and set the basket on the counter.

“Find everything okay?” He smiled again and nodded before averting his eyes from the man ringing him up.

The owner kept various odds and ends behind the counter, usually things people sold him he wasn't sure where to put anywhere else. Norman remembered coming here with his mother when she was still well enough to go out. He would stare longingly at the various rotations of toys that would appear and be gone again long before he had enough pocket money to buy them. Of course, he didn't know anything about money in those days. 

Then his eyes caught something. Some little dolls. Grotesque looking things. Well, he was sure other people would call them grotesque, with their sunken and misshapen features and faulty proportions, but some would say the same about his birds. It looked like there were eight of them all set in and around an old trunk. It looked like a very nice trunk. Like a magician’s trunk. He always liked magicians.

“Comes to a dollar seventy-seven.”

He turned back to the cashier, thankfully not jumping in his startelement. “Oh, uh, sure.” He should have got his wallet out earlier. Stupid.

“Lookin’ at those puppets, huh? Weird looking things, ain't they?”

He didn't want to contradict the man, so he simply smiled tightly as he tried to focus on counting out his bills. “They certainly are interesting. Never seen anything like them.”

The man shook his head. “Me neither.” He shook his head again and took the money Norman was handing to him.

The younger man tried to ignore the toys, but his eyes kept being drawn back to them. Something began to tick in his mind like an old clock. He'd never seen anything like them and guessed he never would again, just like all the other shiny trinkets he’d glimpsed over the years. When was the last time he'd gotten a new toy? He understood these past few years his mother couldn't get him things like she used to. She was sick, of course he wouldn't expect her to busy herself with silly things like his toys and he had lots of toys he should be thankful for.

“And here's your change.” He took the jingling coins and dropped them in his wallet, but didn't put it away. Something stopped him. He hadn't gotten any toys in so long and…surely if he used his own pocket money to buy it, his mother would have a problem with it.

He cleared his throat. “How much are, uh-“ He pointed at the puppets. “How much are they?”

The owner looked at them with a raised eyebrow before shaking his head. “To be honest wit'cha, they give me the heebie jeebies. I'll give the whole lot of ‘em to ya for five dollars.”

That was more than he should spend really...but it was quite a deal for all them and the trunk. If nothing else, he could use the trunk for something. After worrying the inside of his lip for a moment he nodded. “I'll take them.”

The man nodded. “Yes’sir.”

And so he walked back to his car with the groceries and the trunk. It was a bit heavy, but he was able to put it in his car with a little effort. He sighed and shut the trunk. He didn't like keeping things from his mother but maybe he should keep them in his office. Just to keep them out of her way. For now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He took them into his workshop in the basement of his house that he normally used for his taxidermy. It smelled of formaldehyde and sawdust, but he didn't mind. It reminded him of his mother somehow. He didn't know why. She never went down here.

He set the trunk down in the corner with a sigh before unlocking it and opening it. Eight little puppets All lined up in there proper place. He carefully took them all out and laid them on his bench.

There was a pale one with a dark trench coat. Scary. His hands looked sharp so the man was careful handling him. His hair was soft though. Reminded him of down feathers.

Next was clown whose face turned around all different ways. It was fun to turn them and give him different expressions. Norman laughed slightly at the funny faces and the pleasant jingle. He left it on the happy face. People should be happy.

Then a big fellow with a swelled up eye. The sweater looked comfortable but the eye didn't. He knew the doll didn't really hurt ‘cause it he was just a doll, but still. Why would you make an injured doll? Seemed mean.

There was a cowboy with six arms. Like a spider, but he wasn't creepy like a spider. He used to love playing cowboys. He even had six tiny toy guns. He would have to be careful not to lose any.

A pretty lady. He was extra careful with her.

Next to her was a faceless one in a leather jacket. He seemed...nice. Didn't seem to mind not having a face. Maybe he was half finished?

One had a drill on his head and a uniform. Drill sergeant. He smiled slightly at the pun.

The last one looked really scary. He had bullets for teeth and no hands, just pipes. He felt oddly warm. Scary. He wasn't allowed to play with guns. but maybe bullets were different?

He set them all down to look at them. He didn't know much about making dolls, but they seemed very well made and someone had obviously cared about them. They looked hand made. He could see the tool marks. Some of them had some loose joints and dirty and torn clothes, but nothing he couldn't sew up. A boy should know how to sew, after all. He wondered if there was anything else in the trunk that could help. Maybe extra limbs or scraps of cloth he could use to patch them.

He found some tools and doll parts, which was handy, but something seemed odd. The trunk seemed bigger then the compartments. Could there be a secret compartment? Magician’s trunks sometimes had those. He felt around the back and sides before he felt a small give and with an ah-ha he slide out a drawer he hadn’t been able to see before. And he was...confused.

It was full of paper and needles and glowing green liquid. He shivered. He didn't like needles. He hoped this wasn't anything illegal like drugs. He would never get into anything like that. He looked at the papers. A lot of them were in a language he couldn't understand. German? Then he saw a small book with gold lettering on it and carefully picked it up.

‘Andre Toulon’ said the cover. Was that the man who made these puppets? He opened it. He couldn't read most of it, but it had a lot of pictures and it looked liked detailed instructions on how all the puppets worked. He had been wondering why he hadn’t seen any places to attach strings on them. They must be some kind of mechanical puppets.

As he flipped through the pages, he saw lots of symbols he wasn't sure where German. They looked older. Weirder. But it seemed like from the pictures that each doll had a metal hole you put the glowing liquid in and then they would move. Must be some kind of gas or maybe like when you put alka seltzer into a toy submarine to make it go. Oh, this was definitely worth five dollars. He still didn't like needles though. His mother always told him not to play with sharp things, but…well, he was careful and he used them in his taxidermy work, so it should be fine. 

He picked up all the weird things and set them on the table next to the dolls. Who should he try first?

He decided on the clown. If the dolls started moving uncontrollably, it looked like the one least likely to accidentally break something. And Norman liked his face and jingling. He turned to his clump of pages. It gave a detailed look at how his face all slotted together and where the metal slot was. Apparently, his name was actually Jester. That made sense, he didn't have any makeup.

Norman carefully drew out the liquid before putting it in the doll. He didn't want to make a mess. He put down the needle and waited. Was he supposed to do something else? Maybe there was something he was missing that he just couldn't read. He huffed sadly. He had wanted to see the little guy move. He picked the doll up and looked him over. He was surprisingly squishy.

Norman squished him a few times, feeling the solid skeleton underneath before the doll’s head started spinning suddenly. The young man started and dropped the doll onto the ground with a clatter, backing up in fear. It landed on the ground and the head kept spinning before each piece stopped spinning with a solid clack, landing on his happy face. The doll stilled for a moment before it out two hands on the ground and sat up. Norman stared at it and it stared at him. His mouth felt dry. It was probably the formaldehyde.

“Ah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drop you, you startled me.” He didn't know why he was talking to it. It was just a doll. But it moved so naturally. The little Jester stood up and dusted himself off, still looking at him. It gave a little nod and he got the feeling he was forgiven. This wasn't like any doll head ever seen. He’d heard of old music boxes that could move with pre-programmed movements, but this seemed...to random. He knelt down to the closer to him.

“How are you moving…?” He looked at him this way and that, trying to find anything that was controlling him. He bent over and poked the small thing in the stomach. It let out a wicked laugh as if it has tickled. He flinched back. “Ah...you make noise.” He’d only ever seen baby dolls do that, but he guessed other kinds of dolls could do it to.

“So interesting…” He carefully reached out and picked the small doll up before putting him back on the table. “Why, you move almost like a person…” The doll switched to his shocked face as if to say ‘I do?’. Norman smiled and laughed at his antics.

He hadn’t gotten any toys in a while. He guessed they must have gotten much better since he last got one. He stood up straight and picked up the nearby book. “Well, just sit there and I'll work on getting your friends running again to.” The doll - Jester - seemed happy with this and sat down at the edge of the table swinging his feet. 

Eventually, he got all of the dolls filled with the glowing stuff but they all stayed quiet. He worried he'd done it wrong until Jester came over and looked to wake them all up. He was glad. He also learned all there names from the book. They all moved and walked around on their own. Amazing! He’d really gotten a steal. This was better than any toy he'd ever gotten before.

“Wow. You guys sure are something.” They all looked up at him. “Hi. I’m Norman.” He didn't know why he felt the need to introduce himself. but it felt polite. They didn't feel like puppets. They felt real. Well, what was the harm in pretending? Imagination was important. Jester waved at him before bowing dramatically. The ones with hats tipped them and the other just waved. He just stared at them. “Amazing. You guys are the most amazing toys I've ever seen.”

They looked at each other like they were confused. Maybe they didn't like being called toys? Maybe they liked being called puppets instead? “Sorry, I didn't mean to insult you. You’re interesting. is all.”

He looked around and worried his hands together. He wasn't sure what to do now. It felt wrong to play with them like any other toy. He scratched the back of his neck. “Would you like to see my birds?”

They stared at him before Jester nodded and went to hop down. He quickly caught him before he could hit the ground. “Ah! Be careful.” It looked up at him with a cocked head before patting his hand and he set it down carefully. The other dolls looked at each other before shrugging and making there way down to the floor. He took that as a sign they all wanted to see, so he happily made his way up the stairs. At the top of them he stopped suddenly almost causing the small thing to bump into him. “Ah, be quiet while were in the house. Mother’s upstairs and she’s sleeping.” They all nodded and he made his way up the steps happily. He hoped they'd like his birds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Be careful. You can touch them, but be careful.” He worried his hands together looking at all the puppets. Jester was staring at one of the pheasants, seemingly trying to have a staring contest. Pin Head was petting one of them gently with his large hands. Most of the rest of them were staring at them and petting in various capacities.

Six Shooter spotted some ducks on the wall and figured he could shoot one of the eyes out even from this far away and readied his pistol, but Blade put a hook over his gun and lowered it shaking his head thankfully before their new master could notice.

“Do you like them?” Several of them nodded and he filled with pride. “Ah, thank you. It's really not that hard to do. Cheap to. Just need some sawdust and some chemicals.” He fiddled with the feathers of a nearby peacock. “I'd love to have some different birds but I don't like killing you see, so, I mostly just have to take what I find on the side of the road or what people bring me.” He hummed. “People don’t bring me much…” He suddenly perked up. “Ah I have a few more in my back office. Let me go get them.” He excitedly walked back there

“Norman! Norman where are you?” A sharp cracked voice shot through the office.

The man stuck his head out of the office. “Ah. Mother’s calling me. I must go see what she needs.” He smiled affably at them. “Make yourselves at home.”

He made his way out of his office and back up to his house. The dolls all shrugged before they continued exploring, looking through all the rooms and the office. The more responsible puppets kept the more destructive ones out of trouble. Torch kept trying to light the sawdust inside the birds on fire, but the others redirected him to some sticks out back instead. They would sometimes look up at the house and see a shadow moving in the window (presumably the new masters mother) and hear some snippets of conversation.

“You forgot to put the milk in the icebox, Norman.”

“I’m sorry mother I got distracted.”

“Keep your head out of the clouds boy.”

“Yes, mother.”

Eventually it was started to become night and they hadn’t seen or heard Norman for hours. They decided they should see if they were needed. Jester and Blade decided to take the window they had last seen a silhouette through while the rest of them went in through the front door carefully to look around. 

The two scouts made there way up to an window and peaked through. It looked an the old woman was sitting in her rocking chair looking away from them. Must be his mother. But who was on the bed? Blade and jester looked closer, the paler puppet’s eyes clicking.

It was a corpse.

Jester’s face switched to shock, but the clacking alerted the woman to their presence and she turned to reveal it was…Norman?

She rushed over to them and opened the window, snatching both of them in her hands. “What are the two of you? Some cheap toy Norman’s been wasting money on?” She scoffed in that awful, weird, high pitched voice before shuffling towards the door of the room. “I've told him a thousand times not to leave his toys out!” The puppets looked at each other, not sure what to make of this. She stormed out onto the landing, seeing the rest of the puppets standing there. “Ugh, leaving them all over the floor! Bet he wants me to trip and break my neck!” She kicked them out of the way, sending a few down the steps before stomping into Norman’s room and throwing the two she was carrying down harshly. “Norman!” She yelled as he left the room before any of the puppets could react. “Norman! Come here and clean this up this instant!” And then she disappeared into another room, shutting the door loudly.

They all stood up and regrouped, helping the ones who had fallen down the steps. They thought this master was going to be good. He seemed nice. It must have been some kind of trick, but they would show him. They sat in his room and waited.

They heard the sound of something being thrown. “I-I’m sorry mother, I thought-“

“You don’t think boy! Go clean up the mess you made.”

“Yes, mother.”

They heard his footsteps come closer and he opened the door and stepped in. He turned on the lights and they pounced. Pinhead and Driller grabbed his legs while Blade jumped at him from the nearby dresser. The man put his hands up and tried to back away, but only succeeded in falling over and getting a nasty cut on his hand. Instead of retaliating he simply curled up on the floor. “I’m sorry! Please stop! I didn’t know she’d hurt you! I tried to explain you were my friends, but she didn't listen! I’m sorry!”

The man whimpering on the floor was much different then whoever had just been throwing them around. He didn't feel the same. Not by the way he acted and also no by the faint psychic link that attacked the puppets to their master. They all looked at each other in silent conversation. Something was wrong here. Whoever that ‘lady’ was, it wasn't Norman. Blade wiped the blood off his knife into his coat and turned to the others. He said something to Jester who quickly scampered off into a side room.

Norman felt a tap on the arms shielding his face and he flinched. He carefully looked out from in between the cracks to see Jester. He should have known by the jungles. He had some disinfectant and band-aids and his sad face on.

Norman slowly uncurled himself and took them carefully. “Thank you.” He took them and started treating the wound on his hand careful to not move too much and upset the rest of the puppets. He hissed at the disinfectant and Jesters mouth seemed to frown harder. “It’s okay. I deserved it. I shouldn't have…” He struggling to pin down exactly what he's done wrong but he knew it was his fault in some way. He put the band aid on and flexed his hand. “Next time I'll make sure to put you all somewhere she can't find. I know lots of hiding spots.” He smiled painfully before he turned concerned again. “Did she hurt any of you?” They all looked at each other. Norman spotted the cowboy. One of his arms seemed to have fluff coming out of it. “Oh..” he said sadly.

He reached out slowly and picked him up. “Your arms torn.” He smiled. “Don't worry. I think I can fix it.” He just had to find if he had any white thread. He could check in his mother's sewing room. He didn't like going in there, but she hadn’t sewn since she got sick and he didn't want the things to go to waste. “Come on. I think my mother has some scrap fabric that you'll all like.” She never threw any scrap away, always thinking she could make something from it. Perfect for patching small rips and tears. It was the least he could do after letting them get hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A routine developed. Norman would spend most of his time around the puppets, just sitting quietly, enjoying their company and showing them various things around his large old house and motel. Then when his mother called him, the puppets would hide the best they could and do there best to make life difficult for the woman. At first, they just tried to stay out of her way but they soon started to take her needles and cross stitch and hide various parts of her costume.

This was the only time Norman get angry with them. Nearly crying as he pleaded with them to be nice to his mother. They agreed because the sad man was growing on them even if he had not been their master. He showed them good places to hide, where his library was, played games with them. He even let him help with his birds and cleaning the hotel and house. He repaid their help and kindness by patching up their clothes and making them new ones and even fashioning tiny beds for them.

It was nice. To have everything be so domestic, even if it came with the side effect of their master’s ‘mother’. They had faced worse monsters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Norman was a good watcher. He was good at watching and listening and noticing things. He noticed that Jester and Blade were friends, but that the trenchcoated puppet got tired of his jokes easily. He learned that Jester liked to play tricks and most of the time they were funny unless they were on his mother. He learned that Pinhead, despite his appearance, took care of the other puppets when they needed help. Blade liked to climb on things and be tall, often startling him when he was suddenly at eye level. Six Shooter has real guns and, while that scared him and he pleaded with him not to shoot them indoors or near his mother, it was interesting to watch him shoot through pennies from fifty paces. That wasn't many paces for his tiny legs, but it was still interesting. Better shot than he could ever be. Driller liked to dig and drill (obviously) and, between him and torch, had managed to clear up a large amount of underbrush in the backwoods of the property. Just had to make sure neither of them got to carried away. Lastly, he noticed that Leech Woman and Decapatron were always close to each other.

He always mostly left them alone as they intimidated him and he didn't want to be rude, (he always made sure to call her Ma'am) but then he saw them holding hands one night by the fire and couldn't help but blurt out what he was thinking.

 

“Ah, are the two of you married?” He was embarrassed as soon as he said it. It wasn't any of his business. They looked at him questioningly before nodding. “Oh, that's wonderful. I’m so happy for you to.” He smiled widely kneeling down. He tilted his head as he looked at them closer. “But where are your wedding rings?” Neither of their hands seemed to have any. They simply shook their head. He got the impression they just didn't have any. He got impressions from them a lot. He supposed it was just his imagination making stories. “Well, if you’re married, you need rings. Well, I mean, it's just how it’s done isn't it?” He cleared his throat. “I'll be right back.”

He hurried down to his workshop. Metallic gold wasn’t a color he used a lot but it did help with small details and he thought he had a jar of it somewhere. He just needed a small enough paint brush. Ah, there.

He hurried back to them. “Hold out your hands.” They did obediently and he carefully drew circles around the appropriate fingers. “There. Now, just be careful while that dries and you'll have rings.” He smiled wider than they'd seen him in a while, extraordinary happy he could help them. The two of them looked at him. He hesitated, smile falling. “Do you…like them?”

They looked up at him before smiling. Well, not smiling, really more giving him the impression of a smile. Leech Woman jumped up and hugged him around his neck. He blushed. “Ah, thank you, I’m glad you like it.”

It was only right. They were married.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been getting worse and worse. Norman would come back to his room night after night, more and more tired. The puppets could hear the horrible rows he was having with his mother and if it was any other situation they would have gotten rid of the problem already, but obviously they couldn't really do that.

So, they just hid and sat and waited as he came back night after night looking worse and worse. Apparently, Norman spending too much time with them was the focus of most of the recent fights. 

Tonight was the tipping point, however, as he walked in with a black eye. 

Jester’s face turned to shock and then sadness as Norman walked into the kitchen and got a bag of peas from the ice box. “It’s fine. It’s my own fault.” He mumbled tiredly. 

Blade tugged on his pant leg and hissed while shaking his head.

“I need to pay more attention to her. It's not her fault she's sick.” He sighed and sat down in a nearby kitchen chair. Pinhead hopped on the back of his chair and pat him on the back. He smiled. “Thanks. You guys really are great friends.”

He sighed and and put his head on the table.

All the puppets looked at each other. They had to solve this somehow. Even if they didn't know how.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Norman! Get up here!”

Norman had went into the pantry to get something for dinner when they all heard the dreaded shriek “Yes mother!”

All of them looked at each other, ready to put the next plan into action. They took their positions and when Norman walked out of the cellar, Blade was in his way. He tried to step around him, but the puppet stayed in his way. “Blade, please move, I have to go see what my mother needs.”

Blade shook his head and Pinhead grabbed his leg. “Pinhead? Guys?” Jester hopped up on a nearby table. “Guys please, I need to go see what my mother needs.”

Jester switched his face to his sad one. Norman hunched his shoulders. “Look, I know you guys want me to keep playing with you but-“ The puppet shook his head, that's not what he meant. Norman looked to Blade to see if he could make sense. The puppet tapped his darkened eye. Norman lifted his hand and touched his own, still sore from where mother had…

He frowned rubbing his fingers together in contemplation. “Uh...It’s...I deserved it, I shouldn't have-“ He shook his head. “I have to go, please.” He looked at them pleadingly before Blade hissed and let him pass. Norman nodded before hurried up the steps. “Coming mother!”

They all looked at each other and shook their heads. They'd have to try harder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Stop playing with all those toys!”

“They’re not just toys mom, there my friends.”

“I don't care what they are, just take care of them.”

 

They slowly, but surely, were trying to wear him down. Trying to show him his ‘mother’ wasn't good. That she wasn't what mothers were supposed to be. Mostly by pointing out his various injuries caused by her and by comforting him after the violent arguments that existed in his own head (but not enough in his own head to not be painful).

 

“Your toys nearly killed me the other day, you left them out!”

“I’m sorry. I didn't leave them out, they walk around. I'll talk to them.”

“Are you trying to kill your mother, Norman? Make me break my neck?”

“N-no mother, how could you say that?”

 

He spent more and more time in his office or in one of the rooms in the hotel. Even if he didn't mention it, it was clear he was trying to distance himself. He was restless. Unhappy. Or at least, finally realizing he was unhappy.

They tried to cheer him up like they always did. Jester did tricks and played cards with him and Blade carved funny misshapen looking birds. Torch made sure he didn't have to keep getting up to restart the fire and Six Shooter started bringing him any interesting birds he could fined. He always was able to get them right through the eye and with his tiny bullets it left them perfectly intact to be stuffed.

Sometimes he ever got distracted enough to forget about his mother but it would always come with a horrified snap back when he realized he had not checked on his mother all day and ran off.

An instance like that happened one day, and as he rushed back up to the house, the puppets could feel a storm brewing. Like something about to snap. They all decided to follow behind Norman and listen outside the door.

 

“NORMAN!”

“M-mother, I’m sorry I didn't-“

“That's enough Norman! You've been too distracted by your toys, there's no good for you and I'm going to take them away from you.”

“N-no, mother please!”

“Excuse me!?”

“They’re not toys, they’re my friends.”

 

There was a loud crash that made all the puppets hesitate outside the door they were listening through. Then door snapped open and they were meant with the spector. “You!” She was brandished a knife and lunged forward and they were all taken off guard as she slashed at them. She caught Blade in the chest, but he's was still able to slash at her hand to make her to let go for a moment and they all scampered away in different directions.

“Get back here you little tinker toys!” She ran after them all slashing wildly. Normally, it would be no problem to take out one person against all of them but they didn't want to hurt Norman in the process. They all split up and the crazed mother decided to go after the jingling Jester first as he ran into Norman's room.

“You can't hide from me jingle bells!” He hopped from furniture to furniture, dodging the human. His head spun rapidly in horror as he weaved. She caught him by one of his puffy sleeves and tore it, but before it could get worse, she caught a model plane to the face, the sharp plastic cutting a gash into her forehead.

They both turned to see Pinhead ready to fight as jester scrambled for cover. “Oh, beating on an old woman are you? Despicable.” She lunged at him but he caught her wrists and threw her into the floor. She scoffed and grabbed the puppets legs, tossing him across the room and out an open window.  
She stood up ready to continue her hunt, but a gunshot splintered the door frame behind her. She heard a horrible smug laughter as she turned around. “No shooting in my house!” She lunged for him out the door and onto the landing by the steps.

Just then, the rest of the puppets latched onto her legs. “Wha- ah!” She stumbled backwards, trying to shake them off but as she stumbled back, she tripped over the steps and fell backwards. The puppets let go and she tumbled down the stairs all the way to the bottom before going still.

The puppets slowly all congregated at the top of the stairs, looking down at the sudden stillness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Norman woke up in one of the hotel’s beds. His head hurt. A lot of things hurt. He couldn't remember what had happened. He sat up and rubbed his head before looking around. Something was missing. He saw a small flit of movement in the doorway and looked to see a white face disappear. His friends.

“Wait!” He tried to lunge out if bed, but his head spun and he fell onto the floor instead. He heard small skittering feet and looked up foggily to see the puppets surrounding him. His eyes turned sad as he took in how much damage they had all sustained. Various cuts and tears and stuffing coming out. He reached out and picked up Blade carefully. “Oh...I’m sorry…” He looked nearly about to cry. “If I wasn't such a horrible son then…”

Bald reached out a hooked hand, but only patted him gently on the shoulder. He figured they were telling him it was alright. It wasn't his fault. Never had someone tell him that before. He sniffed. “Thanks.” He tried to stand up, holding onto a nearby table to steady himself. “Let’s go and get you guys fixed up.” He tried to take a step but felt a tug at his pant leg. It was Jester shaking his head. He guessed maybe he should take a break. He had just fallen down the stairs. Or...no, his mother had...hadn’t she? No. she wouldn't be out of bed. She must have…

He shook his head. He needed to lay down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was working on carefully stitching up the center of Blade’s chest, thankful his mother hadn’t hit any mechanisms or gears. Didn't look like there was enough to keep him going. but he didn't know much about stuff like this. He did all the maintenance for the building, but that was a lot different than toys he imagined.

He cut off the end of the thread and laid it flat, checking to see how noticeable it was against his body. It was mostly covered by his coat thankfully. “There. Good as new.” He set Blade down who hissed and tipped his hat in thanks. He smiled before turning to Jester and motioned for him to come closer. He looked at the puppets sleeve. “Hm, not to bad. Just your shirt it looks like. Easy.” He looked through the thread he had. “Don't have any metallic. Mother might have some in her sewing room.”

As if the mention of the woman flipped a switch, his eyes dulled and he set the Jester back on the table. He slowly crossed his arms and put his head down. He sighed as he looked over the edge of his arms. Jester pat his head kindly. Norman huffed. “Thanks.” He frowned. “I love my mother...I-I do...but…” His headache was getting worse. “She can't keep hurting people. This isn't the first time.” He shivered as he remembered the blood he’d mopped up. “I try to cover for her but…” He ran a hand through his hair. “But I can't have her hurting you guys. You’re my friends.” Jester made a pleased noise and continued patting. He sighed and sat up. “It’s fine. I'll just go look for some thread. Be right back.”

The puppets weren’t so sure. They could sense something.

He covered his head as he came out of his office and into the rain. He’d been working in his office, feeling like maybe he should keep the puppets out of the house if he could help it. He ran through the mud and into his house. The puppets slowly all came out into the porch, watching the window carefully.

 

“Norman? Is that you?”

“Y-yes, mother. I’ll start dinner for you soon I just have to get some-”

“Have you taken care of those toys yet?”

“I’m taking great care of them.”

“No Norman! Get rid of them!”

“Mother?”

“They’re trying to kill me Norman! They’re a menace!”

“M-mother, I'm sure they didn't mean to. It was an accident.”

 

The puppets looked at each other before focusing back on the shadowing silhouette dancing in the window. 

 

“They’re nothing but firewood Norman.”

 

The puppets liked Norman. He treated them well and don't force them to kill people, but if it came down to him or them they wouldn't go down easy. It was one thing if it was another personality he couldn't control, but with both personalities after them, they'd have no choice.

 

“N-no!”

“What did you say to me, boy?”

“They’re not firewood and they’re not toys, they’re my friends!”

“Don't talk back to your mother!”

“I don't want to mother but-but- but I cant keep letting you do this! You keep hurting people and m-maybe I deserve it, but they don’t- none of those people did!”

“How dare you speak to me like that!”

“You didn't even des-!”

 

There was a cold stillness and then a great crash as if something heavy has been thrown. 

 

“I’m stopping this now mother, I’m sorry!”

“Norman! Norman, put me down this instant!”

 

Some more loud crashing resounded through the house, so loud that the puppets could hear it outside and through the rain, even if they had not had a psychic connection. The door to the house opened with a great crash and the man stumbled out carrying something inside a bundle of blankets. He tripped down the steps towards the parking lot and as he came into the light thrown by the porch of the motel, the puppets could see him clearly.

The rain had soaked him through and he had eyes wide like a jackrabbit as he stared at the puppets. They stared back. He looked at them as if he'd been caught red handed. As if they were demons come to judge him.

But he didn't feel judgment from them. He got impressions and the painted on eyes didn't feel full of judgment. Acceptance. Whatever he wanted to do, they would help. He looked at the car and at them before swallowing and looking even more like a fish out of water. “...Keys?”

Blade nodded sharply before going back inside to grab them off the hook and everyone followed to Norman’s car. He set his mother gently in the back seat and the puppets all piled in after him. He was mumbling to himself barely audible over the rain as he started to drive a well known route.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Norman, Norman what are you doing? Put down that knife. Norman. I knew I should have sent you away. Knew you were a horrible boy. Just like your father. Norman. Norman!” 

He slammed on the breaks. He looked around as if in a daze. Where was he? He couldn't see through the rain. He looked in the back seat and out the back window. Was someone following him? No. Why would he think that? Why would he think anybody was following him? He had to-

He opened the car door and stumbled out, looking around confused in the rain. His head hurt. His mother...where was his mother? He could hear her speaking. Shouting at him, muffled by the car. He didn't want to open the door. But he had to. He had to solve this. Fix this.

He felt he pressure by his leg. He looked down. In the mud. His friends. He couldn't let her hurt his friends anymore.

He yanked open the door and picked her up even as she seemed to struggle in his arms. “Mother please! I’m sorry but I have to! They’re going to lock you away if they find out and I can't let you keep hurting people. I don't like when you hurt people. I don't like cleaning it up. Please mom…” He was crying.

She was still struggling. “Norman! Put me down! Please!”

“I’m just trying to do what's best for you. Being locked away is worse than this. Worse than what I'm about to do. Please.”

He stood at the edge of the bog, the sinking muck a step away. He felt his grip loosen on the bundle. He felt her hands dig into him. He looked down. Old, decayed, blackened claw like things. His blood ran cold as he looked at her. She was shriveled and horrid. He wretched as if he hadn't done it himself. As if he hadn’t been looking at it for the past ten years. This horrible thing with unseeing eyes and a horrible grin. He shrieked and threw it away from him in the visceral way that all people wish to be away from the dead. From decay.

He fell backwards into the mud and saw the mass of already preserved flesh sink into the bog where it would no doubt be preserved for an extra eternity. A horrible stab of panic and regret dug into him, two realities at war with themselves inside his head, both horrible. “Mother!” He tried to lunge forward to go after her, but he felt a hook dig into his clothes, stopping him. “L-let go! I have to-” He tried to shake him off, but was grabbed by the other puppets to keep from throwing himself into the muck to meet a similar fate as all who wandered into it before. “M-mother? Mother!” He let out a horrible shriek as he watch her disappear under the false water. “Let me go, p-please, she's going to- she's-” His struggling lessened as his tears continued to fall, masked by the rain. “I-...she-...I killed her. I killed my own mother! She-she's been-” He curled up and started sobbing.

The puppets stayed around him offering their silent condolences. 

After a long while of him crying, they were eventually able to guide him back into his car and as he closed the door, he was locked in a numbed silence, much like the numbing he was feeling in his soul. He stared blankly ahead of himself. “I killed my own mother.” He spoke it quietly to seemingly no one even with the other puppets in the car, They all gathered around him but he wouldn't look at them.

Finally, Blade stepped into the man's lap to try and get him to snap out of it. He stared down at the small figure. The man hissed and tilted his head. It’s okay. It's over now. “It's not...it's bad...I need to…” He couldn't continued its sentence, breaking into tears again. Blade hissed and clicked his eyes before motioning with his blade hand as it glinted in the dim light. He’d done it too. “But no...you guys are just...you’re toys...you’re good...you wouldn't…”

He looked all of them, none of them contradicting Blade and what he imagined they were saying. Was he just imagining it? He didn't know anymore. He shook his head. It hurt. “I’m tired.”

They all nodded and sat down as he turned the keys to his car and started the engine. He hoped he left the sign on so he could find his way back.

He pulled into the parking lot to find another car there. His heart jumped into his throat. Someone must know. They were going to lock him away. He couldn't go. He’d die. He started hyperventilating as he pulled into the parking spot and his headlights illuminated a woman at the front of the office. Was she...a guest? He stepped out of the car. “C-can I help you?”

She nodded, pulling her meager coat around herself.. “I hope so. Are you the owner of this motel?”

He nodded. She looked pretty. Had to be from far out of town. To made up. He felt jittery. Having to act normal. Act like everything was alright. He nodded. “Yes, I am. Do you need a room?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, please.” Her teeth seemed too white. Like they glowed in the light. Looked weird. Like neon signs.

He tried to smile back, but he knew it didn't quite look right as he hurried past her. “No p-problem, let me just open the office.”

He got to the door before he turned sharply and stilled, like a rabbit hearing a hawk. He thought he’d heard something from the house. But no...his house was dark and all he could hear was the rain. Rain and small feet skittering in the mud behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to message me!  
> http://hawkscape.tumblr.com/  
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